


(falling apart to) songs about hips and hearts

by hipsterchrist



Series: your favorite record [2]
Category: One Direction (Band), Shawn Mendes (Musician)
Genre: Anxiety, Bisexual Male Character, Coming Out, Dirty Talk, Hair-pulling, Kink Negotiation, Light Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-25 01:48:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14966504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hipsterchrist/pseuds/hipsterchrist
Summary: niall is pretty embarrassed by how long it takes him to realize about the hair thing, if he’s honest.





	(falling apart to) songs about hips and hearts

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, I'm still too old for this but I guess I go here now.
> 
> (Title from Fall Out Boy's "Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part to Save the Scene and Stop Going to Shows).")

niall is pretty embarrassed by how long it takes him to realize about the hair thing, if he’s honest.

all signs were there from the very beginning, is the thing. the surprised low moan he got out of shawn when he pulled at his hair the very first time they made out, the whine shawn gave when he did the same thing after shawn jerked him off the first time, the way shawn’s whole body shook when he did it again while returning the favor. and then after that, of course, how shawn would ask for him to do it, beg him for it while they fucked, place niall’s hand in his hair himself when they cuddled.

niall only fully figures it out when they’re watching a film at niall’s house in london. it’s one of niall’s more touch-averse days, and shawn isn’t sitting close enough to press against niall’s side like he usually does, so niall has to actually reach over in order to tug on a lock of shawn’s hair. he watches, the movie totally forgotten, as shawn’s mouth falls open. he listens as shawn’s breathing grows instantly shallower. shawn keeps his head forward, though, keeps his eyes open, as if he could even tell niall what just happened on screen if niall asked. niall buries his hand in the thick curls at the back of shawn’s head then and feels utter satisfaction and accomplishment when shawn eyelids flutter closed, when shawn leans back into it.

it doesn’t quite seem like a normal--well, niall’s not even sure if it’s accurate to call it a kink, and frankly he’s terrified to even do a customary google search to see if it does qualify. still, it doesn’t seem like a normal whatever it might be. it’s not like niall’s new to this type of thing. he’s been with a couple of women who asked him to slap their ass while they shagged, and zayn liked his hair being pulled, too, but none of that ever made any of them go all relaxed and soft, not the way shawn does. it’s...not weird. he doesn’t want to say it’s weird. it’s not weird. it just concerns him. he’s not sure if he’s been doing the right thing.

he’s in sydney when he facetimes shawn about it, smiles at his sleepy face and bed head as he apologizes for waking him up. shawn yawns but shakes his head.

“i’ll always wake up for you, babe,” he says. “what’s up?”

“i just--” niall bites his lip. maybe he should’ve waited until the next time they saw each other to talk about this. “i was just thinking about, you know, how you like it when i pull your hair, yeah?” shawn hums, a blush rising to his face. it’s _disgustingly_ adorable, but niall has to focus, dammit.

“yeah, i guess i do like that,” shawn says. niall snorts at the faux innocence dripping from his tone. it’s an enormous understatement.

“can i ask why?” niall says, then rolls his eyes at himself. “i mean, i know how shit like this works - i know sometimes things just like, hotwire themselves to like, the arousal centers in people’s brains and it’s not, like, intentio--”

“niall, what?” shawn laughs. niall blushes and laughs, too, at his own awkwardness.

“sorry, i’m bad at wording this, clearly,” he says. “i just want to know, you know, why you like it. because it seems like it's different for you than other people, and i just...i don't want to do anything wrong, you know? i don't want to fuck this up and hurt you.” niall rubs a hand over his face and looks away from the screen for a moment. when he looks back, shawn’s expression has gone all soft, his big eyes shining with affection. he looks so _in love_ with niall that it nearly distracts from the deep pink blush rising on his face.

“i’ve never really thought about it before,” shawn admits, his voice quiet. “but i guess...i mean, there's definitely like, a spark of something when you actually pull on it, and like, i know you know that gets me hard instantly.”

“yeah,” niall says, because he does know that, very intimately, “but you like it when i just play with it, too, right?” shawn nods, biting his lip.

“i mean, it feels nice?” he says, then makes a face like he’s struggling for the right words. “it makes me feel...cherished. like, it’s a really simple thing, eh? but it feels nice and i feel kind of, um, pampered, i guess? taken care of? when you just play with it.” he cringes. “i don't know if that makes any sense.”

“it does to me,” niall says. “it’s sort of like a luxury thing, yeah?” shawn nods slowly.

“i think so, yeah,” he says. “and like, it makes it easy for me to give myself over to it, i think, to just let how good it feels kind of settle in me, you know?” niall nods. “and it makes me feel like you're taking care of me, which makes me want to be, uh, deserving of that.” niall furrows his brow.

“you do deserve it, shawn,” he says, “of course you do. have i ever made you think you don't--”

“no, it's not like that,” shawn says, smiling. “you always make me feel very deserving, babe. what i mean is--i want to be, like, good for you.” niall can see that shawn’s face is almost totally red now. the only thing he can think of feels as though it can’t possibly be right.

“er, this is probably a dumb thing to say,” he says, worried that he’s about to make shawn feel bad, “but do you mean like the selena gomez song?” he’s terribly relieved when shawn grins.

“pretty much exactly, yeah,” shawn says. he rubs at his neck anxiously and niall gets so distracted by shawn’s hand and throat that he almost misses shawn’s next words. “i want to do what you say, you know? you can like, have your way with me, and i’ll be good for you, and i know you’ll take care of me.” he bites his lip and gives niall an apologetic look. “sorry if that's too much, i don't want to--”

“it’s not too much,” says niall, whose tongue suddenly feels too big for his mouth. “shit, i wish i was talking to you about this in person. i wanna kiss you so bad.” shawn laughs.

“i always want to kiss you,” he says softly. niall bites his lip.

“i’m not used to the idea of being, er, a dominant person,” he says, blushing. “what if i fuck it up?”

“so don't think of yourself that way,” shawn says, resting his head on the knuckles of his fist. “just look at it like...like you're taking care of me. like i need you to take care of me.” niall swallows.

“is that what you need, shawn?” he asks. shawn looks away, a small smile on his face.

“not always, but sometimes,” he says. “sometimes, yeah, i need that.”

“okay,” niall says, resolute. “okay, i can do that for you. i can give you what you need.” 

\---

it’s three weeks until they see each other again, and after shawn shoves niall against the wall just inside the front door of shawn’s house and kisses him messily, desperately, niall moves to kiss shawn’s jaw and asks, “what do you need?” he hopes it’s adequate shorthand for this, for whatever they’re about to do. shawn’s breath hitches. niall’s pretty sure that means he understands.

“pull my hair,” shawn says, “right now. please.” niall does, yanks shawn’s head back to expose the long line of his neck and mouths at the warm, smooth skin there, sucks a small pink mark where the normal shadow of shawn’s chin can obscure it from view of fans and paparazzi. shawn shudders and groans, his legs already trembling.

“you want instructions?” niall asks, pulling shawn’s hair again to turn his head and nuzzling under his ear, breathing in the scent of his shampoo.

“orders,” shawn says. “i want orders.” niall has to drop his head to rest on shawn’s shoulder at that, has to take a few moments to breathe. he swears he’s going to die before he ever reaches his next birthday and it’s going to be entirely shawn’s fault.

“okay,” he breathes. he tugs at shawn’s hair again and says, “on your knees. get my cock out and suck me off.” shawn - there’s no other word for it, niall realizes with a thrill down his spine - _obeys_. he looks so comfortable on his knees in front of niall, so at ease with his hands on the back of niall’s thighs and niall’s hard cock in his mouth. niall pulls at shawn’s hair just to feel the vibrations of shawn’s groan before licking his lips and deciding to make this a little challenging.

“hands behind your back,” he says. shawn practically melts at his feet just from the words. he does as told, clasping his hands together behind his back, never letting niall’s cock slip from his mouth. the raised stakes and the physical shift throw off his balance and rhythm, and niall pulls him away by his hair when he starts to cough.

“i can do it, i can take it,” shawn says, gasping.

“i’m not fucking up your voice this time,” niall says. “not before meeting your parents tomorrow. jesus.”

“but--i can--”

“you want me to take care of you, yeah?” niall asks. shawn blinks, nods as well as he can with niall’s hand still holding his hair tight. “do you trust me to?” shawn swallows, nods again. “i need to hear you say it, shawn.”

“i trust you to take care of me, niall,” shawn says, his voice soft, sweet.

“even when it means you don’t get what you want right when you want it?” niall asks.

“even when it means i don’t get what i want right when i want it,” shawn says. he licks his lips. “does that mean you’ll fuck my throat _after_?” niall laughs, shakes his head as he tugs shawn’s hair again, pulls him forward to guide his cock back into shawn’s mouth.

“maybe,” niall says. “if you behave.”

shawn does behave. after they return to shawn’s house from lunch with his parents, niall pulls his hair and fucks his throat, jerks him off and calls him “ _good_ ” when he comes. shawn curls up on the couch like a cat and falls asleep with his head on niall’s lap, niall’s fingers playing with his hair. niall tries to concentrate on the tennis match on the TV, but he gets distracted by how pretty shawn looks, how peaceful, and instead he ends up scrolling through an incognito tab reading about something called subspace and how to be a good dom. it’s intimidating, learning about this stuff, and if niall were alone, he’d be panicking, texting apologies to shawn, saying he can’t do this.

but he’s not alone. shawn is here, next to him, on him. shawn trusts him. shawn loves him. he feels like he can do _anything_.

\---

“i think we should have a safe word,” niall says after a morning of lazy kissing in bed. he’s been thinking about it for weeks, probably should’ve brought it up at the very start a couple months ago, but this is the first time they’ve seen each other in a month and niall wanted to say it in person.

“alright,” shawn agrees easily. he turns over onto his side, presses a kiss to niall’s forehead and hooks his ankle over niall’s leg. “petunia.”

“the safe word is ‘petunia’?” niall asks. shawn nods. niall blinks.

“you sure had that ready,” he says. shawn shrugs with the one shoulder not pinned to the bed.

“first thing that came to mind.”

“okay, so, anytime you want to stop what we’re doing, for any reason, just say ‘petunia,’ and i’ll stop immediately,” niall says.

“what if my mouth is full?” shawn says with a wicked grin. niall huffs out a laugh.

“then pinch me,” he says.

“what if my hands are tied?” shawn asks, barely biting back a giggle. niall covers his face with his hands to hide his own embarrassed laughter.

“then--i’ll give you my keys or something to hold in your hand, and if you want to stop, then you can drop them,” he says. shawn seems to consider this. 

“okay,” he says, nodding. “what about yours?”

“what?” niall says.

“what’s your safe word?” shawn asks. niall blinks at him.

“but--you’re the--” he stammers. “why would i need a safe word?”

“because what if you want to stop?” shawn says. he raises himself up on his elbow, bends down to kiss niall’s sternum before looking up at niall’s confused face. “what if you realize it’s too much for you at the moment? or what if you’ve had a bad day and you’re not really up for it but i’m over-enthusiastic and you need me to chill out? or what if we’re trying something new and i like it but you decide that you don’t? you said it yourself, babe: for any reason.”

“but if--if you like something we’re doing, i don’t want to like, pull you back if you’re, you know, feeling good and floaty,” niall says. his fingers twitch for his nails to be bitten.

“it’s not different from the normal sex we have,” shawn says. “you’ve said no to stuff before and i’ve respected that, right? that’s the deal, ni. consent, always. you think i’ll feel good afterward if i realize you wanted to stop something but kept going so i could come or whatever?”

“oh,” niall says. he hasn’t thought about it like this. “no, i s’pose not.”

“i’d feel fucking terrible,” shawn says, “and honestly, it would make it really difficult to trust you in the future.” niall nods, because it all makes sense, but--

“but i’m the one meant to be taking care of you,” he says quietly. shawn gives him a small, sweet smile.

“niall, that doesn’t mean i’ve stopped taking care of _you_ ,” he says. “you’re my boyfriend. this isn’t, like, just an arrangement. i love you.” niall bites back a grin.

“i love you, too,” he says.

“want to share my safe word?” shawn asks. niall shakes his head.

“no, i got one,” he says. “ _cion_.”

“kin?” shawn says, and niall laughs at the sound. it’s like he can see the anglicization written above shawn’s head.

“no, _cion_ ,” he says.

“irish?” shawn asks, smiling now that he’s figured it out. niall nods. “what’s it mean?”

“love,” says niall. “but also--” he pauses to allow a grin to take over his face. “crime, or like, an offense.” shawn laughs.

“you saying our love is a crime?” he asks, teasing. niall snorts.

“no, but i should’ve been locked up for the stuff i wanted to do to you when you were only eighteen.”

“hmm,” shawn hums. he places his hand on niall’s chest, taps his fingers one by one. “but now i’m twenty and you get to do all that stuff and more to me, eh?” niall licks his lips. he sees shawn’s slow smirk and thinks _cion_. “good thing you’ve got your freedom then.”

\---

it’s new year’s day, technically, but only because it's past midnight, and niall is at that point of exhaustion where he feels alarmingly alert. he’s in a car on the way back to his hotel and all he can think about is shawn, also somewhere nearby in a car on his way back to the same hotel. niall could easily fall face-first onto the huge bed in his room and sleep for two days straight, but he spent the whole night, when he wasn’t performing, watching shawn on a monitor on a different stage across times square, noting the stiffness of shawn’s posture, the blush high on his cheeks. it could have just been a morning of going too hard in the gym, a natural reaction to the cold windy weather. but niall knew the truth, and even now, thinking about it makes niall’s heart race, makes his skin feel too tight.

shawn is on him as soon as niall opens the door to shawn’s room, his arms around niall’s waist, kissing him like his mouth is a weapon.

“fuck me, fuck me, come on, please, niall,” shawn says in a rush, “i’ve been waiting, i’ve been good all night.”

“i know. i saw,” niall says. he glides his hands up from shawn’s shoulders to his neck, to his jaw, and finally into his hair. shawn whimpers against niall’s mouth.

“please,” he murmurs. niall tugs at his hair with both hands, listens to shawn’s gasp. “ _please_ ,” shawn repeats, louder this time. “i’m still wet from earlier, i’m still open, you can just--you can just--”

“i can just what?” niall asks. shawn shudders, pulls away from niall’s mouth to drop his head to niall’s shoulder. any residual guilt niall felt about all this, about what he and shawn get up to, has long since disappeared, and he wants to hear shawn admit what he wants.

“you can just slip right into me,” shawn whispers, his breath warm on niall’s skin even through the jacket and shirt. niall holds his own breath for a few seconds, just to feel the ache in his lungs and know this is real.

“is that what you want?” he asks.

“ _yes_ ,” shawn says. his voice is still quiet and muffled against niall’s shoulder. “please, i--i can show you--you can see that i’m ready--”

“fuck,” niall says. “yeah, _fuck_. show me.” shawn pushes away from him almost instantly and goes to the bed, removing his shirt and jeans as he goes. he pauses with one knee on the bed and turns toward niall. 

“how do you want me?”

“on your back,” niall says. shawn inhales sharply, a new red blush appearing on his face, nods and obeys. niall licks his lips as shawn settles on the bed and starts to take off his boxer briefs. letting shawn do this on his hands and knees would've been nicer, would have afforded shawn the dignity of being able to hide his face from niall, but niall can never resist a view of shawn’s thick cock, and anyway he knows by now that shawn gets off a little on the humiliation aspect. he walks toward the bed and grabs hold on shawn’s ankle just in time to prevent shawn from kicking the underwear off. shawn gasps, freezing immediately and looking at niall with dark eyes. he licks his lips. niall glances down between shawn’s legs - he can see it, but just barely.

“show me,” niall says, gently removing the underwear and dropping it on the floor. shawn spreads his legs wider the moment niall releases his ankle, plants his feet to the bed and draws his knees up a bit so niall can have a better look. niall gives shawn’s cock two cursory strokes, enough to see shawn’s thighs tense and his hips buck, before trailing his fingers further down, stopping at the base of the plug in shawn’s ass. shawn squirms as niall taps it lightly, gasps and covers his face with his hands when niall toys with it, pulling and pushing and turning.

“what if i just fucked you with this?” niall asks in a distant, curious tone. shawn groans and drops his hands away from his face so niall can see how much he’s blushing.

“maybe another time?” shawn says, his voice breaking. “right now i need _you_.” niall grins and nods.

“yeah, okay,” he says. “you deserve it, after all, since you wore this and walked around with my come inside you all night.” shawn groans, more embarrassed this time, and covers his face again. niall leans down to nudge at shawn’s hands with his nose, his lips ghosting over shawn’s knuckles.

“can i kiss you?” he asks softly, and shawn moves his hands to pull niall down to him. it’s a sweet kiss made filthy by the sound of the plug being removed, by shawn whining brokenly into niall’s mouth. niall tosses the plug aside and slips two fingers inside shawn.

“oh, fuck,” shawn says, arching his back and gripping at the pillowcase. niall kisses along shawn’s neck, bites shawn’s jaw just hard enough to leave visible marks.

“god, you weren't kidding when you said you were still wet,” he mutters. shawn huffs out something like a laugh.

“you came in me _twice_ and then, like - _fuck_ \- you trapped it inside with the plug. what did you expect?” shawn says.

“didn't expect it to be this good,” niall admits. the sound is obscene as he twists and curls his fingers, and shawn is begging under his breath, and suddenly niall is acutely aware of how hard he is. “ _god_ , can i--where’s the lube?”

“don’t need it, i promise,” shawn says. “i swear i’ll be fine. please just--”

“okay, okay,” niall says soothingly, kisses shawn quiet before moving away, up and off the bed so he can undress. shawn sits up on his elbows to watch, licking his lips with a hungry look in his eyes.

“let me ride you?” he asks while niall steps out of his jeans and boxer briefs. niall nods eagerly, and a minute later he’s on his back and shawn is sinking down on his cock. it's slow like niall instructed - he wants to watch shawn’s face and see for himself if it’s too much, if shawn needs lube after all, so he can stop and correct it before this goes too far. but shawn looks comfortable as ever, like he loves it, and niall feels dizzy yet again by the knowledge that he’s the first to see shawn like this, the first person shawn wanted enough to let have him this way.

shawn rolls his hips and smiles to himself, eyes closed, head tipped back. it's like he’s revelling in more than the sex, in his time here with niall. they’ve got three whole days now to be locked up in this hotel room, to order room service and share the cramped shower and fuck and cuddle and sleep. shawn lets out a shaky sigh as he settles into a steady, moderate rhythm and niall digs his blunt fingernails into shawn’s thighs, desperate suddenly to leave his mark on shawn somehow, their little secret.

“so good, shawn,” he says, and feels shawn’s hands on his chest shake. niall bites his lip at a new curiosity that blooms in his belly. “can you ride me hands free? can you balance?” shawn’s shoulders tremble. without answering, shawn pushes off of niall’s chest and leans back just a little. it throws off his rhythm but only for a few seconds. niall wants to close his eyes against the tight warmth of shawn, get lost in the way shawn feels and makes him feel, but he’s distracted by shawn’s hands, drifting up and down his own stomach and chest, fingers ghosting along his skin. he clearly doesn't know what to do with his hands, but niall does.

“pull your hair, baby,” he says. shawn inhales sharply at the words and digs his nails into his own chest for a moment before obeying, letting out a broken moan at the first pull. his pace is immediately disrupted, his arms and thighs shaking. “pull it like i do,” niall says, and shawn cries out as he does, alternates between hard yanks and gentle tugs, fisting his hand in the mess of his own hair and softly twisting errant curls around his fingers. he’s fully stopped moving his hips now, overcome with following niall’s orders, and he seems to realize, bites his lip so hard that niall spies a tiny drop of blood forming there. niall wants to lick it off.

“sorry, sorry, i--” shawn breathes out, “i can't--i can't do both, i--”

“i’ve got you,” niall says, gripping shawn’s hips. he draws up his own knees and plants his feet solidly on the bed. “don't stop pulling your hair,” he says as he begins fucking up into shawn, holding shawn’s body in place. shawn cries out again, a new broken, desperate sound with each thrust. he licks his lips and the drop of blood disappears.

“can you come just from this?” niall asks, even though he knows the answer. “my cock in you and your hair being pulled? your cock hasn't been touched all night - you think you can come like this?”

“yes, yes,” shawn whispers. his eyes are squeezed shut, but niall wants to see--

“look at me,” niall says, and shawn does. niall takes in his blown pupils and the teardrops on his eyelashes; he feels breathless at the sight. “tell me what you want.”

“come in me, please, come in me again,” shawn whines. niall groans and closes his eyes - he knows what shawn is asking. shawn’s only ever had two loads inside him since they’ve stopped using condoms, and every time he’s wanted more, begged for niall to keep fucking him, but niall’s never wanted it to be too much, never wanted shawn to get overwhelmed in a bad way. this time, though, niall nods eagerly, quickens his pace.

“you have to come for me first,” niall says, opening his eyes and seeing shawn’s head thrown back again. “can you--”

“yes, yes, i’m so close,” shawn says. “please, just--harder--” niall nods and complies, begins pulling shawn’s hips down to meet his thrusts. shawn’s voice cracks on a low groan, and niall has to focus all of his attention on maintaining his rhythm so he doesn't come just from hearing the sweet sounds drawn from shawn’s throat.

shawn’s thighs go tense and niall says, “yes, _yes_ , so good, come all over me, shawn,” and shawn does with a final yank of his hair and a shout of niall’s name. 

“good, you're so good, shawn,” niall says as shawn’s arms drop. his hands are shaking when they settle to rest on niall’s chest again, the heel of his left hand slipping a bit on his own come. he slumps forward a bit but is clearly giving a valiant effort to remain mostly upright, to let niall keep fucking him. niall reaches out to touch shawn’s shoulder, then up further to twirl a lock of shawn’s hair around his finger. shawn whimpers and niall hums at him, says, “come down here, love.” 

shawn allows niall to pull him down until he can tuck his face into the crook of niall’s neck. niall feels shawn’s warm breath there against his bare skin, feels shawn’s whole body trembling over him. he smooths his hand over shawn’s hair and shawn’s shoulders jerk.

“sorry, i--” niall starts, but shawn shakes his head.

“don't be,” he says softly. “don't stop.” niall keeps petting shawn’s hair as he slips his free hand down shawn’s back, over shawn’s ass. he touches the tips of his middle and index fingers to shawn’s rim, feels where his cock is still inside. shawn whines at the contact and niall almost moves his hand away, almost apologizes again, but shawn rolls his hips back, like he's fucking himself on niall’s cock again.

“ _fuck_ ,” niall says. he can feel with his fingers now the way his cock is sliding in and out of shawn, the way shawn’s hole twitches around him with each roll of his hips. he can't believe there was ever a time when he lived without this.

“come in me. come inside me - you promised,” shawn says, his voice pitched high. his nails dig hard into niall’s chest and all niall can think of is his photoshoot in a few days. someone will see the little half-moon marks and know. they’ll smirk at niall and call him “ _lucky_ ” and they’ll have no fucking idea how right they are.

niall fists his hand in shawn’s hair and grips tight at shawn’s hip as his orgasm hits him, filling shawn with his come for the third time in sixteen hours. he stretches his legs out on the bed and realizes that he’s bitten shawn’s shoulder to muffle his yell. there's no blood drawn, thank god, just deep red imprints of niall’s teeth. there will probably be bruising evident tomorrow, and shawn has his own photoshoot on friday. someone will see and smirk at shawn, too, and shawn will blush and laugh and duck his head at a comment about him always choosing enthusiastic girls.

there's a song there, in the spaces that their secrets leave around them, in nobody knowing what proof they leave when they touch each other. niall will write it tomorrow, will run through the lyrics with shawn, will put it to music the next day. he’ll record it in a few weeks, will spend another two months agonizing over whether to put it on the album, especially with shawn’s co-writing credit. he will, eventually, and nick grimshaw and james corden and graham norton will tease him about the subject matter, will ask who it’s about, what it was like to finally work with shawn on a collaboration. he’ll use the word “ _lucky_.”

but right now shawn is squirming on top of him, caught between growing uncomfortable at the come drying between their bodies and not wanting niall’s softening cock to slip out of him. right now shawn needs niall to force him into the shower and scrub him down. right now shawn is kissing niall’s neck and saying, “i love you, i love you,” and niall is sure that he can feel his very molecules thrumming in time with shawn’s heartbeat.

\---

louis texts him completely out of the blue on a tuesday in LA, inviting him to come over for ice cream with him and freddie. niall frowns and does the math, thinks of his nephew before responding.

“can 2 year olds eat ice cream?”

“probably a dumb question,” he says to himself, especially considering freddie is turning three in a few days. greg and denise have always been weird about what theo eats, and, come to think, lou and caroline were always particular about lux and brooklyn, too. louis probably has no similar qualms over feeding his son sugar. niall’s suspicions are then confirmed by louis.

“what the hell are you talking about neil !! ofc toddlers can eat ice cream ya loon,” he sends.

niall snorts, asks for louis’ address, and grabs shawn’s denim jacket, hanging by the door, on the way out. it‘s sort of a spur of the moment choice, but he’s glad for it when he gets to louis’ place and learns they’ll be having this ice cream party or whatever outside on the patio, where it’s cool and breezy and shawn’s jacket is perfect for the weather.

louis is in wildly different spirits since the last time niall saw him. he looks relatively well-rested and well-fed and _happy_ , in a way niall hasn't seen on him in years. it's fairly jarring to see him so alert.

“you seem to be settling well into fatherhood, eh?” he says, and then immediately has an internal panic over the “eh.” it's the most annoying thing he’s picked up from shawn, who thinks it's adorable and teases niall over it mercilessly because he even says it in shawn’s accent. but he's been careful about slipping up with it around other people so far, and now he's gone and said it in front of louis, who’s notorious for grabbing onto things and dragging them out like a poorly trained puppy. he cringes, prepared for narrowed eyes and questions, but when he looks over again, louis seems to miraculously not have noticed.

“d’you know what, mate?” louis says, loud and clear as ever. “it's the _greatest_. honestly. i’m mad for this little lad.” he bends down to scoop up freddie and says, “ice cream, freddie! ready?”

“weady!”

“ready, freddie!” louis agrees, grabbing the four spoons on the kitchen counter. “will you get the bowls and--”

“got it,” niall says, taking the bowls, scoop, and ice cream containers outside as he follows louis. “we expecting someone else?” he asks when louis’ sat down. he gestures to the four spoons.

“oh, no,” louis says. “he just always drops a spoon on the ground. don't you, freddie?” freddie gives a vigorous nod. niall laughs. “what’ll it be then, fred? chocolate? vanilla? strawberry? salted--”

“scawbelly!” freddie says, fumbling up to his feet on the picnic table bench.

“strawberry it is,” louis says happily. he plops a scoop of ice cream into a bowl and pushes it over to freddie before picking up a spoon and tapping the kid’s nose with it. freddie giggles. “you gonna drop this one?” freddie shakes his head, which shakes his whole little body, but he’s grinning mischievously as he does. it makes him look uncannily like louis, nearly gives niall whiplash. “yeah, right, you little liar,” mumbles louis, before handing him the spoon.

freddie does drop it about halfway through his single scoop, and louis makes a big dramatic show of sighing, retrieving the dirty spoon from the ground, and presenting freddie with a clean one, all while freddie laughs hysterically. it’s all very charming and bizarrely routine and niall wants to ask a hundred questions, but he just eats his ice cream and laughs when it seems most appropriate, and anyway, the spoon thing ends up being mostly for naught because freddie takes one more bite with the clean one before deciding he’d rather be playing in the grass.

“you want the rest of his?” louis asks after helping freddie off the bench. he tips the bowl toward niall, whose eyes go wide as he thinks of the germs.

“hell no,” he says. “that’s what parents are for. i’m just a weird uncle.”

“that’s the spirit, neil,” louis says. he frowns over at freddie. “not so close to the pool, fred--there’s a lad. stay in the dirt.” he laughs when niall grimaces. “it helps their immune systems, digging in all the germs and bacteria or whatever.” niall shudders just as a gust of wind hits him. he pulls the jacket closer around him, sticks his hands in the pockets and finds a crumpled receipt. without thinking, he pulls it out and smooths it a bit on the table, and louis stops trying to balance a spoon from the tip of his nose and kicks niall in the ankle. “tim horton’s? when’s the last time you been there?” he asks. niall shrugs and shoves the receipt back into the pocket.

“been awhile,” he says, even though it was only three weeks ago, when he and shawn made a late, late, _late_ night run for donut holes and then shawn kept niall awake for another hour with a lecture about why timbits are so much more than donut holes. when niall finally kissed him to shut him up that night so they could go to sleep, shawn’s mouth tasted like honey. 

“so what’ve you been up to, niall?” louis asks. “i mean, besides the touring and the top selling album and all. you’ve been doing alright for yourself, haven’t you?”

“been keeping busy,” niall says. he only means it as a statement of agreement with louis about the touring and recording, but louis chooses this, of course, to grab onto and drag out.

“that so? just you? or have you got a girl?” louis says, a mischievous little lilt to his tone. niall feels a bit blindsided by the question, although he doesn't really know why.

“there’s no girl, tommo,” he says, huffing out a laugh. louis makes a noncommittal noise and looks out at freddie. niall follows his gaze to watch freddie dig up a clump of grass and dirt in his tiny fist, looking all around him for somewhere to put it. when he finally settles on removing his own little shoe and shoving the dirt in there, louis speaks again.

“how ‘bout a lad, then?”

niall whips his head around. louis doesn’t look at him for another few moments. he shrugs when he meets niall’s eyes.

“i know you were like, trying to figure yourself out while we, you know,” louis waves his hand in a way that manages to be both dismissive and significant, as if he’s finishing his sentence with, _ruled the world_. niall blinks. louis sighs and busies himself with closing all the containers of ice cream, now melting in the sun. “you could’ve told me you’d done it - figured yourself out, i mean.”

“i know,” niall says, barely resisting biting his thumbnail. “it just seemed best to not make it a big thing.”

“it’s your sexuality, niall,” louis says loudly, looking at him again. “you’re allowed to let it be a big deal if you want. you’re not harry, for fuck’s sake. you don't like, like, nebulous bullshit. i know how you are - i gave you a fancy label maker for your 18th birthday, mate, remember? and you loved it so much you wept right then and there.” niall laughs.

“i used that thing for years, too,” he says. “it disappeared somewhere in belgium, i think.”

“yeah, erm, about that,” louis says, giving an overdramatic wince the way he does when he’s feeling marginally apologetic but mostly thrilled to tell a story. “i _might_ have stolen it and meticulously labelled the cock-and-balls region of each and every one of liam’s undergarments, including what he was wearing at the time, and he _might_ have broken the label maker over my head.” niall laughs again, full-bodied and relaxed.

“why’s that not surprise me?” 

“anyway, who’s the boyfriend?” louis asks, raising his eyebrows. niall’s laugh fades quickly into a sigh as he shakes his head.

“you won’t stop asking ‘til i tell you, will you?” 

“nope!” louis declares, making a loud popping sound as he does. across the lawn, freddie mimics him. louis grins and gives freddie a thumbs up. “good lad!” he yells, then, to niall, he says, “is that his jacket you’re wearing?” niall clears his throat.

“it’s shawn’s, yeah,” he says. louis looks at him and smiles and it nearly knocks niall off the bench. it feels like ages since he experienced the full force of a pure louis tomlinson smile.

“shawn mendes?” louis says, then nods, almost to himself. “yeah, that makes sense. cute guitarist in a denim jacket seems exactly your type. tell me: is his hair as soft and luscious as it looks?” niall chokes, coughs, and louis snickers. “yeah, that makes sense, too. seems _exactly_ the type to like his hair pulled.”

“i didn’t say that!” niall says, rubbing his throat and trying to will away the heat rising to his face.

“didn’t have to, mate! i’ve been around a time or two, you know. i _know_ things, niall,” louis says. niall wants to ask, suddenly, a hundred more questions, totally different from before. he wants to press for details, ask for louis’ expert opinions, find out if louis’ ever gotten a bit take charge in bed, or even if he’s been the more submissive partner himself. but it feels inappropriate with freddie so close by, and anyway niall’s not sure he can handle details about louis’ sex life that he doesn't already know.

“how long you two been together then?” louis asks. 

“it’ll be a year in march,” niall says.

“a _year_?!” louis exclaims. “you’ve kept _shawn mendes_ a secret for ten whole months?”

“i mean, it’s really not that hard to keep shit from the public,” niall says. louis scoffs.

“easy for _you_ ,” he says. “you always got to have your secrets, didn’t you?” there’s no hint of resentment or bitterness in his tone, but still.

“well, i never recorded any of mine on video, mate,” niall says. louis makes a face.

“fair point well-received,” he says, and then, suddenly quieter, he asks, “do liam and harry know?” niall understands why. louis always plays up his nosiness so he can hide how deeply he longs to know the important people in his life. he’d be so hurt if he was the last one niall told.

“no, neither,” niall says. louis looks a bit relieved.

“zayn?” he asks, a little clipped, but not nearly as harsh as the last time niall heard louis say the name. niall bites his lip and shrugs.

“i didn't tell him,” niall says. “he just figured it out. he was over for dinner--me and shawn didn't even touch the whole night and he still knew.” louis snorts.

“always hated how fucking observant he is,” he mutters. niall, who for almost five whole years heard louis express his appreciation for zayn’s quiet attentiveness, allows louis the lie.

\---

“sweet baby, our sex has meaning,” niall sings absently to himself as he puts the kettle on. he pauses, trying to place what song it’s from, and then makes a soft, unhappy grunt when he realizes it’s one of zayn’s, and not even one that niall particularly likes very much. he busies himself with tea and breakfast for two, letting shawn sleep off the remainder of his jet lag. shawn arrived in toronto from capetown yesterday and barely made it through the door before falling asleep on the nearest surface. niall had to practically drag him to the bedroom when he got to shawn’s house last night, had to pull off his shoes and tuck him into bed and everything. he should be waking up within the next hour or so, and he's got a late morning and early afternoon filled with interviews, and the least niall can do is make sure he has a decent breakfast when he finally stumbles out of bed.

he busies himself around the house while shawn is out, playing guitar and messing about on the piano, unpacking shawn’s luggage and doing the laundry. if he stands there for a few moments in front of the washer, watching his socks and shawn’s underwear swirl around together in the soapy water, then at least no one is around to see. he sits down on the sofa and starts folding as soon as the dryer buzzer goes off, because that’s just what he does, and absentmindedly gets a youtube playlist going on the TV, which at some point becomes a series of shawn’s more recent interviews. he laughs about it at first, doesn’t pay much attention as he picks at some pilling on one of his sweaters before folding it, but he gets distracted by shawn saying his name.

over and over, it seems, shawn mentions him in interviews. always casually, like he’s just telling a funny story involving a friend, or expressing admiration of a respected mentor. sometimes he doesn’t even bring niall up himself, and it’s the interviewer’s fault that shawn starts talking about him, but it doesn’t really matter to niall. he’s transfixed by the way shawn says his name, the way his face goes soft and his voice turns gentle when he says “niall.” he finishes balling up the socks and picks up his phone, scrolls through the related videos sidebar in the app and clicks on some of his own interviews, the ones where he knows he talked about shawn. 

he watches himself avoiding eye contact, finding a reason to laugh so he can pretend he’s not smiling at the mere mention of his boyfriend. there’s one from months before they started dating, when niall was just smitten and stupid and grimmy suggested shawn as a good sidekick for him, and he swallowed and just said, “yeah,” in that cagey, tense tone he has sometimes that he always hopes no one notices. there’s a short video that he and shawn filmed together for BBC, two months into their relationship, that finds them sitting on a couch talking about their friendship, how they met and what they do when they hang out and what they think about each other’s music. niall never watched it when it first came out, but now he can’t tear his eyes away from how much they touched each other, right in front of cameras, and how he had to keep looking away from shawn’s face to keep from blushing, and how shawn laughed so easily and big and freely at things niall said.

he has no idea how they haven’t been found out yet, how people don’t know. he’s not exactly sure, at this point, how awful it would be if they did.

niall’s working on a song when shawn comes home buzzing with anxiety, obviously wanting to complain about his day but reluctant to. instead, he stands in the doorway to the living room and says, “that sounds a little like ‘in my blood,’” and niall grimaces and sets his guitar aside.

“too much like it,” he says apologetically. “i’ve been trying to rework it, but it just won’t budge. i think i need to change the words first.” he looks up at shawn. “what do you need, babe? you look so--” he makes a vague, flappy-handed gesture and hopes shawn knows what he means. he frowns. “how can i help?”

“can i just--” shawn starts. he looks down at the floor. “can i just, like, sit at your feet? until you finish with those lyrics?”

“might be awhile,” niall says quietly. “like, over an hour, most likely. maybe over two.” shawn nods.

“that’s fine,” he says, lifting his gaze to look at niall again.

“you want me to play with your hair?” niall asks. 

“yes, please,” shawn says politely. niall smiles. 

“okay,” he says, standing. “i’m going to get some water first. do you want any?” shawn shakes his head. he reaches out to circle his fingers around niall’s wrist when niall gets close enough, and niall stands on his toe to kiss him softly.

“i love you,” shawn murmurs. niall kisses his chin, his dimple, his adam’s apple. 

“i love you,” he says, then, "go sit.” he goes into the kitchen and when he comes back, a glass of water in hand, shawn is naked except for his underwear, on his knees on the floor next to where niall was sitting. he’s wringing his hands and looking around sort of aimlessly, and niall knows this well, knows it means that shawn is feeling adrift and worried and frazzled. he crosses the room and sits down on the couch, leaning over to grab his notebook and pen off the coffee table. he gets comfortable with the notebook open on his lap, stretches one leg out to rest his foot on the table, and settles his free hand in shawn’s hair. shawn instantly relaxes, closes his eyes and leans into the touch. niall can practically see the anxiety and stress draining from shawn’s body. he twists a lock of soft hair around his finger once, twice, before looking away, down at his notebook, at lyrics that are screaming up at him for a reworking, and starts writing.

it does turn out to be hours, as niall predicted. just about four hours of shawn sitting silently at niall’s feet, nuzzling at niall’s knee sometimes, as niall scribbled in his notebook, crossed out words and turned to clean pages, singing under his breath occasionally.

“your knees must be killing you,” niall says after he sets his notebook aside. shawn opens his eyes and looks up at him, and niall has to bite his lip to keep from gasping. shawn’s lips are red and swollen, his eyes as dark as niall’s ever seen them. he moves with niall’s touch, wherever niall takes him, everything about his body open and pliant and so, so sweet. it makes niall feel a little bit drunk.

“you’d do anything i said right now, wouldn’t you?” he asks quietly. it takes a few seconds for shawn to respond on his own, and when he does, it’s just a simple, slight nod. “anything,” niall says again, soft, to himself.

“anything,” shawn repeats in a whisper, unblinking as he gazes at niall, who bites his lip. there’s a hundred things he could do to shawn, with shawn, right now, things he wants to do all the time and things he’s barely even voiced yet. he could order shawn to crawl to the bedroom, could lay him out on the bed and work him open with his fingers, could slip a cockring on and fuck him for as many hours as shawn spent on his knees in silence. he could pull shawn into the bedroom by his hair, could fuck shawn’s mouth and come on his face, could stretch out on the bed and have shawn fuck him but not let shawn come at all until tomorrow. every option is good, would be satisfying and pleasing and a relief. but he’s meant to take care of shawn. shawn might not know what he truly needs right now, but niall does.

“come on, love, up on your feet,” he says softly, standing himself and holding out his hand to shawn. he winces at the crackling sound shawn’s knees make when he stands, intertwines their fingers together in what he hopes is a soothing manner as he leads shawn toward the bedroom. he stands next to shawn, a hand on his shoulder, as shawn brushes his teeth and washes his face, lets shawn stay close behind him, arm around his waist, as he does the same. he sits shawn down at the foot of the bed and removes shawn’s underwear, throws it in the empty laundry basket, and helps shawn put on the sweatpants he always wears to sleep. he lets shawn undress him, lets shawn choose what he’s going to wear to bed, smiles when he gets handed another of shawn’s sweatpants instead of niall’s own. he pulls back the covers and guides shawn into bed, under the sheets, next to him, and pulls the covers over them again.

“sleep, babe,” he says, smoothing his palm over shawn’s hair. “i’ll be here in the morning.”

\---

it’s a few hours until the clock turns over to their one-year anniversary and shawn’s got his head in niall’s lap, his eyes closed as niall plays with his hair. niall is staring down at his phone, the words he's typed glowing at him.

“think i’m about to tell the lads,” he says softly. shawn opens his eyes and turns over so he's looking right up at niall.

“yeah?” he says. niall nods. shawn smiles - the small one that he seems to save special for niall, when he’s proud of him, when he’s feeling particularly enamored. “good for you.” niall presses the backspace key a few times, then frowns and retypes what he just erased.

“have you told anyone at all?” he asks. “besides your parents?” shawn shakes his head and closes his eyes again for a moment, evidently to savor the sensation of niall’s hand in his hair when he shook his head.

“i don't really have people close to me who i trust like that,” he says, opening his eyes once more. “not like you can with them, you know?”

“yeah,” niall says, biting his lip. “i’m lucky.” shawn hums and niall takes a deep breath. “alright, i’m gonna hit _send_.”

“go for it,” shawn says, and niall does.

it’s sent to the group chat, the one that louis keeps adding liam to every time liam gets a new number, and that liam keeps adding zayn to every time zayn gets a new number. it's not especially active - the last four messages are a picture of bear petting a goat, a short video of freddie strumming terribly on a ukulele, a link to some graffiti video from zayn six phone numbers ago, and a black and white photo of a busy street from harry’s show day in singapore. niall feels as if he’s interrupting a conversation that's already stalled.

“since there's no one i trust more to keep a secret than you lads and it’s been long enough anyway i should prob just make it official. i’m bi x”

he’s not expecting a response from any of them right away - as far as he knows, liam and louis are eight hours ahead, harry seventeen, and zayn’s probably in new york - but his phone starts vibrating with replies almost immediately.

“nialler !! congrats mate ! love you always x,” sends liam.

“top lad,” and a totally normal smile emoji from louis, very quickly followed by, “hahaha or are you?” and a winking face.

“proud of u niall x,” zayn replies, and then eye roll and crying laugh emojis directed at louis. niall rolls his own eyes and laughs.

“everything good?” shawn asks.

“just a top or bottom joke from louis,” niall says. shawn lets out a burst of laughter and shakes his head.

“straight people are so predictable.”

“Heyo, Nialler! Congratulations. I’m gonna kiss you on the mouth next time I see you,” says harry. niall grins.

“my boyfriend might have a problem with that,” he sends.

“oi ! boyfriend???!!!” liam replies. niall tugs on shawn’s hair.

“sit up and take a selfie with me,” he says. “got to prove you exist.” shawn does as requested - as told - and smiles.

“your boyfriend who lives in canada,” he says in a singsong voice before smashing his face against niall’s as niall snaps a photo.

niall hesitates a moment before sending it. it’s cute as hell - both he and shawn are making kissy faces at the camera, niall more or less winking and shawn clearly trying not to ruin the mood of the whole thing with a grin - but shawn also looks a bit obscene. his lips are bitten red and swollen, the pupils of his eyes obviously blown even as they're half-lidded. niall’s hand is still in his hair, his fingers curled there in a fist. it honestly looks like niall pulled shawn up from sucking him off to take the picture before pushing him back down. niall’s cock stirs as the thought.

“hmm,” shawn says. he’s noticed. niall swallows and hits _send_ , looks at shawn, takes in the mischievous gleam in his eyes as shawn palms niall’s cock through his shorts. shawn gasps when niall yanks at his hair.

“floor,” he says. shawn nods and slides down to his knees, takes his place on the floor between niall’s legs and smooths his hands over niall’s thighs.

“is that shawn mendes??” liam says.

“cute,” zayn says, along with a smiley and a winking kiss.

“Not a bad choice, Niall,” says harry.

“hahahahahaa,” is from louis, and is followed by, “nice hair on that one,” because he is a menace.

shawn rubs his face over the bulge in niall’s shorts, mouths at his cock through the layers of material. niall’s breath hitches. he reaches down and slips his hand into shawn’s hair.

“not yet,” he says. “be good.” shawn hums his assent and closes his mouth, but continues nuzzling. niall allows it, runs his fingers gently through his hair.

“dont be mean tommo,” says liam. “he does have nice hair”

“hahahaahhhahaa,” louis says.

niall bites back a smile. “payno can we kick louis out of the chat,” he sends, twisting one of shawn’s curls around his finger.

“I WILL NOT BE GOT RID OF THAT EASY MATE,” louis replies, then there’s a demon emoji from zayn, and then louis says, “yes exactly z thank you. I WILL NEED TO BE EXORCISED”

“good lord,” liam says.

“oh come on li that’s not nearly enough to expelme, ya have to put your heart into it”

“I see this has taken a turn, as usual,” harry says. niall can hear his low, dry tones through the letters. “Anyway, miss you, Niall, and I’m proud of you. Happy you’re happy. x”

“when do we get to meet him?” asks liam, but niall’s already sent a “love you lads ! x” and a green heart and tossed his phone aside. he looks down at shawn, well-behaved and still so needy, and licks his lips.

“how long do you think you can stand to have my cock in your mouth without sucking, eh?” he asks. shawn's hands squeeze at niall’s thighs when he swallows, lips trembling when he parts them to speak.

“as long as you want,” he says. niall grins at shawn’s ambition. he cups shawn’s jaw with his free hand, slipping his thumb inside shawn’s mouth. he smiles when shawn closes his lips around niall’s thumb but doesn’t suck, like he’s practicing.

“we’ll see,” niall says quietly, pulling his thumb away. he pets shawn’s hair for a moment, watches shawn’s eyelids flutter closed under the attention, and says, “get to work, babe.”


End file.
